Okay, so it might not be a storm that is being monitored by super duper weather people, let's call it a storm of a personal nature.
A few weeks ago, I happened to notice my husband's belly button. Why would I notice his belly button? I don't know, to be honest. It caught my eye and I made mention that it didn't look right. I knew he was an "innie" and it wasn't looking so innie-fied. I asked him if he was okay. Perfectly fine was the reply. The next week, I noticed again that belly button wasn't exactly right. Again, I asked if he was okay. I'm okay, said he. The beginning of the week, that durn belly button mocked me. Of course I asked if he was okay and if he was hurting because hernias usually present themselves through the belly button and it looked like he was working on one. He assured me yet again that he felt fine and I had to drop it.
Every six months, the Navy requires that you prove to them you are in top physical form. You must weigh in, measure, and run a little ways in a specific amount of time. You pass or fail. The older guys...and I'm leaning towards submariners....really dislike this. They work in small confined spaces and time to work on physical fitness usually is nonexistent. You are required to run a mile and a half (time to be determined by age). How many submarines are a mile and a half long?
Anyway, my husband is counting down his PFA's (physical fitness assessment). He only has a few left before retirement and he can't be finished with them soon enough. He has been excused from running, but has to do hardball with an elliptical machine. His 42 year old knees can't handle pounding the asphalt and he's perfectly okay with the elliptical.
The other day he headed off to do that dreaded PFA. I didn't think anything of it. It's part of how things are done. When he didn't come home after an hour, I assumed he was waiting in line for a machine. What I didn't expect was a call from him...from the clinic. It appears he started feeling alot of pain after some push ups, sit ups, and a starting run on the elliptical machine. His Master Chief (who happens to be a corpsman) sent him to medical.
My husband has a hernia. An umbilical hernia. How about that. Now he has to see a specialist because he will need surgery to repair it.
I have requested that he have put in his medical records that his wife diagnosed him THREE WEEKS AGO. Validation, Internets. I'm sure you understand.
On top of all of that, there's Paige. What about Paige, might you ask? Well, let me tell you about Paige.
She has flat feet. Courtesy of her bio-father. That man's feet are so flat they suck to the floor when he is barefoot. I kid you not.
After one broken foot, and three sprained ankles...her doctor felt it would be wise for her to get some physical therapy to strengthen her ankles. I thought it wise, too, because how many people have shoe boots, two sets of crutches, and wraps on hand around the house? (and they were all from Paige)
The Man took her for her initial consultation on Tuesday. Apparently, she has potential for bad feet. Her arches are already falling. Without proper help, in ten years (at the tender age of 24) she could be having major foot problems. She was told by a concerned therapist she has to wear GOOD shoes from here on out and keep the cute sandals to a minimum.
Enter intense therapy starting next week. Three times a week.
Enter a surgery in the near future with recovery time for The Man.
Enter a summer of all these people being here in the same home.
Miss Hope can't have mild storms in her life. Sweet storms with gentle falling rain.
No sir. She has to have full fledged storms. Loud, with lightning and thunder..with wind thrown in for good measure.
How on earth can I dance in the rain if there's a chance I can get hit by lightning. Answer me that, would you?
What do I do? What needs to be done. I've called my Mother-in-law to let her know what she might be coming into when she visits. Bless her, she's still planning to come. I called my Mama to tell her she might have to come spend a day or two with me. There are times when you just can't do it all by yourself. I have friends here who wouldn't mind helping out, but considering they're all heading out of town soon....that might not be an option for them. Plus, friends who are still here might've just gotten their hubby back from "vacationing in the deep blue" and need quality time with their man. That, I can totally understand.
I have to recover from being a bad wife, too. This all happened Wednesday and I told The Man when he called from the clinic to not plan anything for yesterday (Thursday) because we had too much going on. Awards day and graduation for The Boy. Like he could help having a hernia and all that goes with it. I told him to make it til Friday (today) and we could do whatever needs to be done. Well, Friday isn't good for him because he's taking part in a co-worker's retirement and can't let a brother down.
Life can be pretty durn inconvenient sometimes.
This is how it rolls at The Edge. Never a dull moment, I can promise you.
I have lovely pictures from yesterday that I plan on sharing with you very soon. Good stuff that'll make you smile.
So, you go on now, and have a right decent Memorial Weekend. Remember our men and women wearing the uniforms to serve and protect this country of ours. Remember the ones who've gone on before. (Thanks, Daddy!)